


Sometime Around Midnight

by Sundance201



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundance201/pseuds/Sundance201
Summary: "She's laughing, she's turning, she's holding her tonic like a cross/The room suddenly spinning, she walks up and asks how you are"Sherlock sees Molly for the first time in two years.





	Sometime Around Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing? I am still uncertain about the thing, but it's been nice to actually finish something, so I'm trying not to doubt myself. I heard The Airborne Toxic Event's song "Sometime Around Midnight" the other day on the radio and it just inspired me - thus the title. Hope you enjoy!

The pub wasn’t anything special. It was filled with locals having a good time, catching up with friends about the week, having dinner, having drinks…and then there were John and Sherlock. The case had been solved earlier than anticipated and the sitter still had Rosie until tomorrow night, so John had proposed a bit of a “lad’s night.” Having literally nothing else to do, Sherlock had agreed.

John had made mention of texting her, letting her know that they were in town, but Sherlock had shot that down. She had a big conference to prepare for next week – her hospital was hosting. Surely she was too busy preparing. John, surprisingly, had the courtesy of not asking why Sherlock knew her hospital’s schedule.

But best laid plans and all that. Of course she would be at the exact same pub. Sherlock sighed heavily, unable to tear his eyes from her, and took another swig of his beer. He’d lost count of how many he’d had and at this point, he thought that was probably for the best. Especially since Molly Hooper was looking his way.

Clumsily, he saluted her with his beer. She smiled and raised her gin and tonic in return. She then turned to some of the people she was out with, leaning over to shout something at them. And she was pointing. And they were now all looking at him. Fantastic.

He drained the beer and signaled to the bartender for another.

He didn’t like being dramatic (he could picture the Mary in his Mind Palace rolling her eyes), but it seemed like the crowded pub seemed to make way for Molly, clearing her path to him so she made it to his side with ease. “Hi Sherlock!” she said with a bright smile on her face. It was genuine, not forced. She was glad to see him. He couldn’t imagine why. “It’s good to see you. What brings you into town? Interesting case?”

He shrugged. “Thought so. Even dragged John out. But turned out to only be a six. That’s why we’re here instead…John called it having a ‘lad’s night.’” The disdain was dripping from his every word, but it seemed to make Molly’s smile only grow brighter. She giggled and leaned forward, bracing herself on his arm. Her touch burned through his suit coat.

And suddenly all he could think of was that night, years ago now, before Eurus and Culverton Smith and Mary and even right before Magnussen. After Tom though. All he could think of was soft her skin was, how her hair fanned out across her pillow, how she sighed his name into his mouth. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her.

All he could think about was how desperately he missed her.

And then suddenly, her touch was gone and he looked down to where her hand was, briefly, before looking back up at her. That soft smile was back. She looked at peace. “You look well, Sherlock,” she said, the slight quirk of her lip signaling that she remembered this conversation all too well.

He replied as had been scripted for him, by Molly herself. “I am.” Even though he wasn’t.

“Good, that’s good.” Molly nodded, stepping forward just a bit. He could smell her perfume and he had to restrain himself from inhaling the familiar fragrance deeply. It wasn’t that it was an unusual scent, millions of women in London wore it. But none of them were her. “Where is John, anyway? If this was his idea?”

“Loo. Or trying to pull. I can’t remember which. He might’ve told me before he took off.”

Laughing, she shook her head. She sobered, but still had an air of mirth about her. “I’ll be in London next month, you know. For Rosie’s birthday…will I see you there this time?”

He shrugged. “Unless something more interesting comes along.”

At that, she fixed him with a serious look. “Sherlock, she’ll start to remember her birthdays from here on out. Missing one is forgivable. If you start missing all of them, she’ll remember that.”

As always, she was right. “Of course I’ll be there, Molly.”

She grinned. “Good.” There was a buzzing noise on her wrist and she looked down at her watch (one of those technologically advanced ones where it was basically a second phone – she was always a bit of a gadgets nut, he thought fondly). She frowned. “Sherlock, I’m so sorry, but…I have to be going. I have a lot of work to get done tomorrow and-”

“The conference! Of course,” he said, bobbing his head up and down. Molly’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but she quickly shook off her suspicion.

“Give John my love.” She bit her lip, briefly, before stepping even closer and going up on her tiptoes. “It was good to see you, Sherlock,” she whispered, curling her fists in his coat and brushing her lips over his cheek.

He thought his heart was going to stop. God, was this what she felt like every time he had done this to her? Did she feel those knots in her stomach and that ache in her chest? No wonder she left if this was the agony that he put her through. But clearly, it was an agony that he was alone with now. She stepped back, that same sweet smile on her face as when she first approached him. “See you soon,” she murmured, before turning around and heading back towards her friends.

He tried not to stare as she put on her coat and left the pub. But one of her friends, obviously pissed, had his hands all over her and Molly didn’t seem to mind and it made Sherlock almost sick with jealousy. He pulled on his coat and threw down some bills, more than enough to cover his and John’s tab, before pulling out his phone. 

_John, found a new case. Meet you back at the hotel. Don’t wait up._

And then he left the pub as well, carefully trailing Molly.

One by one, her colleagues dropped off, until it was just Molly and the man that he could only assume was her boyfriend, from the way that he was draped all over her. They finally stopped at a building and Molly ushered the man inside. He watched as the first light on the left came on and he could just barely make out her figure as she moved around her flat.

Picking the lock on her building was ridiculously easy – he wondered if she felt safer here, away from London…away from him. But he didn’t pick the lock on her flat. No, that was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Instead, he knocked.

It took her a moment to answer and he started to wonder if she would. She would have to know it was him. And sure enough, when she opened the door, she didn’t seem shocked at all. “I’ve been here for two years, Sherlock. You could have visited earlier.” Her smile this time was sad, resigned, as she leaned against the door frame and looked up at him. “Do you want to come in?” she whispered.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?”

Her forehead creased for a moment, before she shook her head and laughed. “My boyfriend? Marcus is definitely not my boyfriend. And he’s currently passed out on my couch. He was just really drunk…I didn’t want to send him home on the train by himself.”

“Not your boyfriend?” he asked, apparently needing reaffirmation.

She shook her head. “Definitely not my boyfriend.” She opened the door wider, a clear invitation to him. “Come in, Sherlock. Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that did him in. He crossed the threshold and closed and locked the door behind him. He followed her through the flat, his eyes seeking out familiar items from her old flat and taking note of new ones. She led him towards the back of her home, into what appeared to be an office, far away from the snores of her friend on the couch. She flicked on a lamp in the corner, giving off just enough light so they could see each other and then curled up in an overstuffed chair, a familiar friend from her old flat. Sherlock leaned against the desk.

He cleared his throat and tried to ease into conversation. “How are preparations for the conference going then?”

She laughed humorlessly and shook her head. “For God’s sake, Sherlock. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in two years and you followed me home – do you really want me to believe that you wanted to talk about the conference? I know you’ve always been interested in my work, but that’s a bit far-fetched, even for you.” She leaned forward. “You took a case last year during Rosie’s birthday, just because you knew I’d be there. You’re never around when I’m visiting. Why? I don’t understand why my company is suddenly abhorrent to you.”

“I avoided you whenever you were in London because I thought that was what you wanted. I was trying to respect your wishes, Molly. I know that you still have people that you care for in London and I didn’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable visiting them. So I thought I’d…make myself scarce when you were around.” Molly opened her mouth, but he knew what she would say. “I know that you didn’t move because of me. I know that this is a great move for your career. But you have to admit that you wouldn’t have picked up and left everything behind quite so quickly if the events at Sherrinford hadn’t occurred.”

She shut her mouth and leaned back in her chair, nodding minutely. “You’re right. Part of the reason I left was because of that phone call. Because I realized that I couldn’t keep on living like that…knowing that I’m just a pawn to you.”

“That’s not what you are, Molly,” he said solemnly. He watched as she wiped away a few tears that had fallen.

“You didn’t do much to prove that, did you? Slept with me and then threw me over for a ruse with Janine. Went back on the drugs too. And then after Mary’s death, when I really could have used your support, you dove right into hell and dragged the rest of us with you…” She sighed, shaking her head. She took a deep breath. “Why follow me tonight, Sherlock? What do you want?”

He knew that this was it – his one chance to get this right. He couldn’t let his idiot tongue move faster than his brain this time. He had to actually say what he meant.  He looked up at her ceiling, knowing it was easier if he wasn’t looking at her. “Because seeing you again…was complicated, Molly. Tonight when you touched my arm, all I could think about was that night.” He didn’t need to clarify which night he was talking about. There was only the one between them. “All I could think about was how much I missed you.”

He paused to lick his lips, but refused to look her way. If he looked at her, this would come out all wrong. He wasn’t even sure if what was coming out now was right. But he forged on. “I avoided you when you came to visit because I knew that’s how I would react. And I…don’t like feeling this way, Molly.”

She huffed out an almost-laugh. “Who does?”

It seemed like now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “God, it was like torture tonight, Molly. To see you looking so calm and cool and collected while my palms were sweating the entire time we were talking. I felt like I would be sick at any minute. I didn’t want to…burden you, I suppose. You’ve moved on.” He finally looked at her and saw that her eyes were sparkling, not with tears, but with mirth.

“I’m glad that I seemed calm and collected to you because it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. It was like when we met, but ten times worse.” She uncurled herself from her chair and stood, reaching out to him and grabbing his hand. She gently kissed his knuckles. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Sherlock. I couldn’t. I left London because this job was an amazing opportunity…and because I needed to let my heart heal.”

He nodded silently, knowing that he needed to let her get this out, no matter what. He owed it to her. She locked eyes with him. “My heart was broken, Sherlock. And then it healed…and all that time, it never stopped loving you.” She smiled at him and shrugged. “I’ve missed you. So much. And seeing you in the pub tonight it was like…fate or something. I know you don’t believe in that, but…that’s what it felt like. I’ve thought about showing up at Baker Street so many times…” She trailed off, stroking her thumbs across the backs of his hands.

“I meant it. What we said over the phone that day.”

Molly looked up at him and smiled her sad smile once more. “I know. I know you did…I know you do.” She bit her lip and looked down. “I meant it too. But I knew that it wasn’t the right time for…anything. You had so much on your plate to figure out and I couldn’t add to it. And I needed to figure out what I wanted.”

Sherlock squared his jaw and took a deep, steadying breath in through his nose. “Have you figured it out?”

Molly took a step closer to him, just barely invading his personal space. “Yeah, I think I have.” She looked up at him and reached a hand out, splaying her palm out over his chest, over his heart. “And you?”

“I think I’ve always known what I wanted – just didn’t think that I deserved it. Deserved you. Still don’t know if I do.”

“You do. You always have.” She stepped closer again. “I want you, Sherlock.”

He huffed out a laugh and brought his hands to the small of her back, pressing her against him. “Thank god, because it would be terribly awkward if I’d laid my heart bare and you didn’t still want me.” She giggled and surged up on her tiptoes, her lips colliding with his.

They broke apart, breathless and grinning. “John won’t worry if you don’t come back to the hotel?”

Sherlock shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his mobile.

_Molly was at the pub – with her now. Definitely don’t wait up. We’ll meet you for breakfast at the train station tomorrow._

He set the phone down on the desk behind him, before grabbing for Molly again. She giggled and pushed his coat off his shoulders and he shimmied out of it, letting it land on the floor. The phone buzzed but Molly and Sherlock were already half way out the door, heading towards the bedroom.

_About damn time. See you in the morning._


End file.
